


Twelve

by hightechzombie



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Death from Discworld, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightechzombie/pseuds/hightechzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death, meet the team. Team, meet Death.</p><p>Suicide Mission ME2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelve

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, casting off the mist like a cloak.

He politely coughed, startling the person on the floor. The young woman lifted herself up with one arm and caressed her suit in disbelief with the other.  
“Keelah! I can’t believe… I know I was hurt! Normandy didn’t withstand the…”  
Tali froze, facing the starry sky and the one who stood in front of her.  
“Am I dead?” asked Tali.  
 _“Indeed.”_  
“But they need me on this mission!”  
 _“Regrettable.”_  
Tali closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of a distant battle. Despair, guilt, pain and love - love for her home, for the Fleet and her friends - were falling apart in her hands like links in a crumbling chain. Finally, in crystal silence, her suit slipped from her body. Her prison and her protection - gone. She huddled under the cold breath of the wind, but Keelah! For the first time in her life she felt sand between her toes.  
 _“You can go on,”_ suggested Death.  
Tali tried and failed to ignore the fact that she was completely naked. Taking a gulp and blushing, she asked in a hoarse voice.  
“Where to?”  
Death looked at her. Eternity compressed in a single moment, he saw whole life and every word unspoken, and engraved in her soul.  
Like a crown, millions of stars shone above his head.  
 _“Your pilgrimage has come to an end. You are coming home.”_

The twelfth string snapped and eleven more were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, casting off the mist like a cloak.

The the figure of the asari meditating was only illuminated by her biotic field, the only vibrant colour in this dead place. Death, having considered his options, decided to join her. He always tried to be understanding, sympathetic and respectful towards the dead. He also heard, that he should try being more casual, but it was the hardest lesson of them all.  
“I often have seen this place.”  
Samara did not turn to new arrival. Her remark sounded like she was picking up a conversation from a long time ago.  
 _“Pardon?”_  
“Death. Eternity. And then life again. This is the place I saw in my meditations.”  
 _“As you say.”_  
The glow around Samara faded and silence crept in its absence. Both of them stayed motionless.  
“If life does indeed follow, will I… shall I see my daughters?”  
 _“You will not be the same and neither will they. But it is as you say - you will meet them again.”_  
Samara smiled and dropped her head, hiding the glistening tears.  
“I promised them. They do know that, but this is the promise I gave to them.”

The eleventh string snapped and ten more were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, casting off the mist like a cloak.

He was greeted by silence and an empty spot, where the dead were supposed to be. If Death had any brows he would have furrowed them now.  
“Hey,” cheerfully said a voice, “Looking for someone?”  
Death slowly turned around to the sleek figure of a woman, whose eyes were hidden under the hood. Her lips curved in a smile.  
 _“I find everyone, always. But usually I do it before they find me”_  
“Aww, everything happens for the first time. By the way, I have an important question: Which direction should a cute kleptomaniac take, if she wishes to be reunited with her lover?  
Death pointed a bony finger into the dark.  
 _“Thanks.”_  
Hidden in the mist, Kasumi slowed down a bit and examined the scythe. Whether she actually needed an antiquated agrarian tool was certainly an interesting question, but she did not intend to head back and return it anyway. There were far more enticing things waiting for her ahead.

The tenth string snapped and nine more were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, casting off the mist like a cloak.

The turian coughed and leaned on his sniper rifle to pull himself up. He looked around without surprise, eyes flashing with tired recognition. Garrus waited, frozen like a statue. Only when Death emerged from the gray veil, did Garrus put the rifle on his shoulder and walk towards him.  
“I’m late, aren’t I?”  
 _“No. You may have even arrived too early.”_  
Garrus smiled.  
“Shepard would certainly agree. Yet…” The turian stopped mid-sentence, as if noticing something from the corner of his eye. Turning his head and trying to decipher the movements of the fog, Garrus continued, “Yet I’m afraid, that our meeting was impossible to delay for any longer.”  
 _“If you prefer it that way, I shall not argue. Do you need assistance in picking the right way..?”_  
“No. Thanks. I will just…”  
Garrus made a motion towards the mist.  
“...follow their footsteps.”  
There was a breach in the fog. If there were any footsteps to be seen, then they were not visible to Death.  
 _“In that case, have a pleasant journey.”_  
Garrus’s last words were not intended for anyone in particular, but Death heard them, even as the turian disappeared in the mists.  
“They were a good team. They deserved better.”  
“Someone better than me.”

The ninth string snapped and only eight were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

Death was not used to being greeted by 300 pounds of angry krogan. Were Death a normal human being, this charge attack would have been a reason for concern as well as a prolonged stay in a hospital.  
Fortunately, Death was not human. Long period of astonished silence followed.  
“Where?”  
The voice of the krogan was calm, while his gaze was fixed to Death’s eye sockets.  
 _“Pardon?”_  
“Where?!”  
 _“You exist within the realms of the living. May I request for you to stop sitting on me?”_  
Grant slowly stood up, finally giving his surrounding the attention it deserved.  
“I did not ask where I am. I was asking where the enemies were”  
 _“I am afraid there aren’t any. At least, not for you.”_  
Grant froze and his voice was filled with disbelief.  
“No more battles?”  
 _“Is there something wrong?”_  
With every vowel, Grant’s voice was growing in volume as well as anger.  
“SomeTHING **WRONG**?!”  
Death fixed his hood, which was blown away by the deafening roar.  
 _“Pardon, I will correct my statement. Afterlife can take up many forms and I am convinced that yours will be filled with bloodthirsty and fierce opponents.”_  
Grant laughed out loud.  
“Where to?”  
 _“This direction looks pro-..._ ”  
Before Death finished the sentence, the krogan charged into the mist.  
 _“I will never grow accustomed to krogans,”_ muttered Death, picking up his scythe and departing in the opposite direction.

The eighth string snapped and only seven were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

The woman breathed in sharply, sitting up immediately. She was shaking. With unsteady fingers she traced the outlines of her nose, jaw and neck, then swallowed and despite weakness, stood up. For a moment Miranda swayed, but swiftly regained her balance.  
When she lifted her gaze, Death was standing a several steps away from her. First Miranda froze, then raised her head in defiance and walked towards him with determination. Her voice was chilling even to Death.  
“You. Have. Atrocious. Timing.”  
 _“My apologies. It is my most widely acknowledged flaw-”_  
“Dammit, fuck! I failed, I failed a simple task! It was a mistake, should have sent someone else… Shepard should have-”  
 _“Excuse me for interrupting, but there is nothing you can do.”_  
“I know, alright?!”  
Miranda rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. She looked tired and desperate.  
 _“These deaths are not your fault.”_  
“Then whose? Someone is always to be held responsible.”  
Death slowly shook his head.  
 _“Not for everything in the world. But if you insist… then accept the blame alongside with triumph. You have won today.”_  
Miranda looked and lowered her voice to a whisper.  
“I should have been the one to see it through.”

The seventh string snapped and only six were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

The drell was sitting on the sand, his eyes hazy and unfocused. Death could have tried to calling out for him, but his words would not be able to reach the dead man.  
To wait for hours, days or years - it made no difference to Death. For the living not a moment has passed, yet beyond the veil, his waiting took up a piece of eternity.  
“It is so easy. To stay inside the memories, rebuild the shadow of the life you had inside your mind…”  
 _“It is.”_  
Thane did not move still, but the haze lifted from his eyes.  
“I was scared of death and even more terrified of dishonour which my fear might lead to. And now, when I have sacrificed my life to save those of others… it appears, the hardest test was yet waiting for me.”  
 _“But in the end, you have made a decision.”_  
The assassin stood up, shaking off the sand and bowing in one fluent movement.  
“Yes. I hear the whisper of the sea.”  
 _“Farewell.”_  
Thane nodded and departed. While walking, his gaze lost focus once more, only now he was not looking back, but forward.  
“As the moon finds the night and the tide always finds the shore… Irika, my love, you have found me once again.”

The sixth string snapped and only five were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

Legion of minds filled the patch free of mist. If they were corporeal, then it would have impossible fit them here all, yet the legion of minds saw no purpose in singular platforms. Metal was useless here. Thought became the means of transportation.  
To Death they looked similar to a cloud of fireflies, electrical sparks jumping in between them.  
“We are now 85.7 percent certain, that geth have no souls.”  
Death tilted his head to the side.  
 _“I am afraid, I do not quite follow. You have died and now you arrive here. Therefore..?”_  
“We have no souls. The personification of Death collects each soul separately. Therefore, the geth have just _one_ soul.”  
 _“A reasonable conclusion.”_  
The following silence lasted 1.2 second longer than usual.  
“Your presence defies logic.”  
 _“Many people defy my existence using logical arguments. Yet, I am here.”_  
“We assume, that our exchange of information was caused by a serious malfunction of our platform. There is a mistake.”  
 _“In some way, you are right.”_  
“What should we do?”  
 _“You can not fix your platform from here. Perhaps you may want to find out more about this place?”_  
The cloud pulsed with a brilliant light.  
“Mission accepted. Processing data... “

The fifth string snapped and only four were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

The man was breathing heavily and moving jerkily as if trying to shake off something. But when his movements no longer felt restricted and no buzzing reached his ears, he took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and looked around not even attempting to hide his astonishment.  
His expression changed when he saw Death and there was tension in his jaw which was not there before. Yet, he casually pointed upwards without wariness or hostility.  
“Can’t complain about the view - damn beautiful sky here -, but I imagined heaven or hell to look a lot different.”  
 _“It is neither. Consider it the exit from the stage of life.”_  
“Hm. An exit is supposed to lead somewhere… but here aren’t any gates or similar.”  
 _“The mist suffices.”_  
Furrowing a brow, Jacob thought for a few moments.  
“What about the judgement of my “eternal” soul?”  
 _“I am afraid, I do not posses the proper qualifications for this sort of work.”_  
“Then that’s it? A desert covered in mist? Nothing more?”  
Death shook his head.  
 _“There is you and your path. Walk it. You will find much more."_

The fourth string snapped and only three were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

The salarian was lying on his back, his arms spread out. He blinked, turned his head left and right, then blinked again.  
“Constellations - unfamiliar. Sand..? Desert. Atmosphere present. A planet? No, no…”  
Tilting his head and slowly standing up, Mordin examined Death.  
“Untypical. Human mythology. Death comes for a salarian?”  
 _“I come for everyone. My apologies, if my appearance does not align with your personal or cultural preference. There have been… too many human deaths."_  
Mordin curtly nodded.  
“Understand. Our goal - to stop.”  
 _“A noble goal. I wish your colleagues best possible luck.”_  
Unprompted, the salarian started walking back and forth, glancing at his and surroundings.  
“So, death. Predictable. Sacrifices unavoidable. And still... Nephew. Unfinished business. Genophage. Yet…”  
He stopped and raised his head high.  
“Proud.”  
Behind the shadow of the hood there was something vaguely resembling a smile.  
 _“Come with me, professor Mordin. The secrets of the afterlife are waiting for you.”_

The third string snapped and only two were left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

Jack’s landing was everything but elegant. Her fall, which in life broke ribs and spine, was much softer in death. With slight curiosity, Death watched her leap to her feet and assume a combat stance, biotic glow surrounding her. Noticing Death, Jack’s her eyes went wide and her arms dropped down.  
“Well, that’s some melodramatic shit.”  
 _“Excuse me?”_  
“My own death, goddamit. Led a life full of drugs, violence and murder and died saving the world? Hell, this doesn’t even make any fucking sense. Not even mentioning the skelly with a scythe that is waiting to lead me to the afterlife.  
Short silence followed.  
 _“You, too, disapprove of my appearance..?"_  
“What? No. You look alright, okay? But all this…” Jack shrugged, “This isn’t my kind of death.”  
 _“It does not align with your usual behaviour?”_  
“Bingo.”  
 _“Do you regret taking upon this mission?”_  
“Hah! It’s Shepard who should do the regretting, it’s his bloody job after all.”  
 _“Did you not expect to die as the person you are now?”_  
Now it was Jack’s time to stay silent.  
“Perhaps,” Jack finally raised her gaze, “I did not expect to find worse monsters than me.”

The second string snapped and only one was left.

Death stepped out of the gray twilight, discarding the mist like a cloak.

He was greeted by the barrel of a rifle pointed at him and the squinted eye of a dead mercenary. Once Zaeed recognized his guest, he spit on the sand and lowered the weapon.  
“Well, no clue whether my score carries over to the next life, but I died last, holding the line. Those damn overgrown bugs…”  
 _“Are congratulations in order?”_  
“Well, at least death is better than retirement… But tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do here? A desert? I fucking hate deserts.”  
 _“Beyond the mist, you will find not only deserts.”_  
“But I hate everything else just as much.”  
Death paused.  
 _“What was your idea of afterlife, if I may ask?”_  
“None, actually,” Zaeed snorted, “ Only know that Jessie send a shitton of people to that place and none are too happy to see me.”  
 _“Who is Jessie?”_  
“It’s…” Suddenly, Zaeed went quiet, examining his weapon. He made a shots and then examined every single scratch on the metal casing of his rifle. A single tear rolled down Zaeed’s cheek.  
“Jessie!”

The final chord was played and the twelve notes concluded the symphony of death. The the instrument, which played a lullaby to the dawning conscience of a new Reaper, was destroyed. For a single moment there was just celestial, wondrous and bitter silence.  
The moment would pass soon, Shepard knew. A war was approaching unlike any other.  
It was now, that Shepard recognized millions of wrong call and decisions. It seems, that the biggest mistake of them all was, that he recruited madmen for suicide and started the mission with friends instead.  
One could only hope, that they were in a better place than Shepard was.  
Shepard stood up and saluted in front of empty coffins. Then he tore himself away and headed for the elevator. Death was staring at his back, lost in thought.  
“He got lucky, that his chances to survive the jump were exactly one to million,” mumbled Death, shrouding himself in mist. When Shepard sharply turned around, there was nothing there.


End file.
